**Here's my disclaimer: the following post could probably fall under the category of TMI for some people. Read at your own risk :)
On May 17, 2010, I woke up around 3:00 a.m. with a strangely sharp cramp in my belly. In a rather groggy state, I made my way to the bathroom, assuming that I just needed to go really bad. Even in the dark bathroom, the blood was unmistakable. So was the terrible fear and dread that swelled in my heart. I had read that a little bleeding is normal, but this just didn't seem right. I didn't even want to wake Dameon because I had to get my head around it first. I went back to the bedroom and laid very still for the next hour. I knew I shouldn't jump to conclusions, but it was impossible not to fear the worst. And to fear what the following days might bring. Finally I couldn't be alone with it any longer. I woke Dameon and told him I was bleeding. He went to the toilet to look because I knew I couldn't. He agreed that it seemed bad. I didn't expect him to say that, and it was then that I cried. We laid in bed trying to figure out what to do. It was too early to call a doctor, and I didn't even have an OB yet. I was only seven weeks pregnant. We talked about how bad we felt for telling our families. We talked about how the next time it wouldn't be as exciting because everyone would be worried about this.
Finally around 7:00, I called the local clinic. The nurse on call answered and listened as I told her my symptoms. She told me that it could be totally normal, but that I should call back in an hour when the clinic was open to make an appointment. Then I called my parents. At 8, I called and was scheduled to come in at 11:00 for an early ultrasound. Dameon stayed home from work with me and we both sat very quietly in the waiting room for a long time. Having never had an ultrasound of any sort before, I didn't know what I should expect to see. And I didn't know if I would be able to tell right away if things were bad or not.
I thought about this baby. The baby I had barely even known I had yet. The baby I had hardly had morning sickness over. The baby my belly hadn't even grown with yet. The baby I hadn't yet felt kick or hiccup. But even thought I couldn't feel this baby...I already felt this loss.
We went into the ultrasound room and I changed into a gown. I positioned myself on the table and Dameon positioned himself right beside me on a small couch. He held my hand and we stared at a blank screen, waiting for the nurse to get started.
She flipped on the screen and immediately, immediately, we knew exactly what we were looking at. There he was. A tiny little peanut-shaped baby with a head, a tail, and a heartbeat. We could actually see his heart...beating. I heard Dameon gulp back a sob and I sighed a kind of relief I've never felt before. There was life.
The doctor met with us and explained that this kind of thing is completely normal and that we shouldn't continue to worry about it unless we noticed major changes. I was so worried that I would live in fear for the rest of the nine months, but the Lord just completely took that away from us. After the appointment, we went to get some lunch at Panera. I remember sitting down with our salads and just staring at each other, knowing we were the only ones in that restaurant who knew what we had just experienced. And we both started to cry.
Later that day, my mom told me that she had been in an Omaha hospital that day with my grandpa because he was getting some tests done. I was keeping her posted via text message throughout the morning. Immediately after the appointment, I called her to tell her the good news. When she got off the phone, she shared the news with my grandpa. He then exclaimed to his doctor, "There's a heartbeat!"
Thank you, Lord, for our healthy (rolling over, now!) Baby Henry. Thank you for allowing me to carry him. I am not entitled to a baby. I am not deserving of a baby. It is not my right as a woman. It is a gift. And our praise to You will never cease.